


Let's Play a Love Game

by The_Artist_Formerly_Known_As_SatCat



Category: Saturday Night Live, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cameos by actors, Cameos by actors' other characters, Domenico's, Dr. Leslie Jones, Ex From Hell, F/M, Kissing, Mentions of pornography, Reytavish, This convo was made for eavesdropping, Vaginal Sex, age gap, mentions of Daddy KInk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:45:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Artist_Formerly_Known_As_SatCat/pseuds/The_Artist_Formerly_Known_As_SatCat
Summary: Starting over had been the hardest thing William McTavish had ever done, and he was still not sure he was going to make it. Sure, their marriage may not have been exciting, but it had been stable and happy enough, he had thought. 15 years of his life were gone, with nothing to show for it; she got the house as alimony (sold in 3 weeks!), their son, and child support. Of course, the truth about Rick had eventually come out. By then, though, the divorce was final, leaving William with the rage and shame of knowing Valerie had left him for another man, alone and with no legal recourse.Who knew it was possible to heal a broken heart in six weeks?





	1. Waiting for Player Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jinxykitti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxykitti/gifts), [sunbug1138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbug1138/gifts).



> ***This is a reposting of a deleted fic.***
> 
> Hey what's up some people have tracked me down to ask about some fics I wrote that they missed when I killed my account. By request, I am reposting some of them. I won't be checking for comments or anything else on them, since I don't really participate in the fandom much anymore.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy these in good health, and be kind to each other in the comments ok?!
> 
> ~(TAFKA)SC

Starting over had been the hardest thing William McTavish had ever done, and he was still not sure he was going to make it. Miles was so far away, in so many senses of the phrase. Valerie had moved to the other side of the state, insisting that the school districts there were far superior; the tears in her eyes had convinced everyone, including the judge, that she was selflessly acting for Miles’ educational benefit. William’s protestations of the harm of removing a son so far from his father had carried no weight. She got the house in the divorce and had promptly put it up for sale, moving away with the court’s blessing and leaving him with nothing to show for 15 years of his life. Sure, their marriage may not have been _exciting,_ but it had been stable and happy enough, he had thought. Of course, the truth about Rick had eventually come out. By then, though, the divorce was final, leaving William with the rage and shame of knowing Valerie had left him for another man, alone and with no legal recourse.

Now, he had both a physical and an emotional gulf to bridge, and precious little time to do it in. The judge had ordered that Miles’ school breaks longer than 2 days be spent with his father, but thanks to the year-round school that Miles attended, his summer break had been a mere 6 weeks. After that had come an agonizing 3-month wait before his fall break, relieved only by the weekends when William could make the cross-state trip to get Miles. Even then, despite their shared custody, those extra visits could only occur with Valerie’s _permission._ He needed _permission_ to see his own son, to whom he’d been a sturdy provider and a good father— _and_ he had to ask it of the woman who had left him for another man. The idea made his blood boil if he thought about it too long. He sighed, and rolled out of bed to face another Monday. At least his work had been stable, and he hadn’t had to start completely from scratch.

“Morning, William!” came the chirpy, British-accented greeting as he passed the reception desk in the front lobby. “Here’s your coffee and the report you need to review for your 10:30 meeting today!”

He took the coffee and file folder absently, only remembering belatedly to turn around and offer a ‘thank you’, but by then, she was nowhere to be seen. Perplexed, he walked into his office. His confusion was soon forgotten as he settled into his daily routine: there were emails to answer, phone calls to make, and meetings to attend. The 10:30 was only the first of many. Inside the file folder was an agenda that began with a line about “streamlining the standard meeting agenda format to promote clarity and precision across internal and external meetings,” and went on to list “Danielle: MEETCON REPORT.” A quick google search revealed that MEETCON was, as its name implied, a convention all about meetings.

This was a meeting about how to plan and have meetings, complete with a report from a convention about meetings, which this firm had actually paid for someone to attend.

William groaned, dropping the file and shutting his eyes before reaching over to pick up his coffee. He sipped it and raised his eyebrows, the file forgotten. The coffee was exactly the way he liked it, with honey and just a splash of cream.

_How did she know that?_

He took another sip, savoring the taste, then stretched his neck from side to side before returning his attention to the screen in front of him. The distraction of the coffee had been refreshing, and he found his focus renewed. He made a mental note to thank the receptionist— _was her name Rachel? Rebekah? something like that_ —and settled in to get some work done.

* * *

The 10:30 meeting had run long, because of course it had—neither Danielle nor Hunter, her direct supervisor, had been able to shut up about MEETCON, and everyone around him had politely feigned interest, which had made him want to scream. Leslie, his rehab-appointed therapist, had been drilling him about making sure that he ate regularly in order to keep his emotions in check. She called it being “hangry.” At first he had scoffed, but the people around him seemed to notice (and made it a point to avoid him) when he hadn’t eaten…so there must have been a grain of truth to it. The silver lining to the torture session that had been the meeting meeting was that now, it was a few minutes before noon; he could leave as soon as he put his portfolio back in his office and beat the crowd to lunch, which would be a welcome change. Waiting for him on his computer screen was a post-it note.

“William —

Here is the resume for your 12:30 interview; Lyle is out sick today, so upper mgmt has asked you to fill in—”

A frustrated growl clawed its way up from the depths of his shredded patience, but he continued to read the bright orange post-it.

“—and since you wouldn’t have time to eat a proper lunch, I made sure to get you some takeaway. The box on your desk is Chicken Athena, with rice and hummus. Plenty of protein and fiber to keep you going!” She (presumably it was a she; the writing was flowy, and he didn’t know any of the guys in the office that would think to order him a lunch) had drawn a little smiley face in the bottom corner of the note, but hadn’t signed it.

Chicken Athena was a dish that William hadn’t had since the company dinner in April, for the simple reason that there wasn’t a decent Mediterranean place near his condo. His eyebrows raised as he scratched his head in confusion, trying to puzzle out who might have done it. On the one hand, his recently-fortified cynicism balked at not knowing why all of this trouble was being taken on his behalf. On the other hand, it have been so long since he’d been the beneficiary of simple human kindness… perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised him, in his heightened emotional state, that he felt a little choked up, but he was. Much though he yearned to solve the mystery of the box lunch, he needed to eat and to prep himself for the interview. It would be a shame to let such a thoughtful gesture go to waste. At the first bite, he grunted with surprised satisfaction — it was delicious. Reading between bites, he found his mood eased and his focus a little less wobbly.

Walking into the 12:30 interview, he was greeted outside the door by Thomas, a generally insufferable man with a stick lodged up his ass. William stifled a sigh, knowing that the next hour or so was going to be positively awful.

“William!” Thomas put on an air of jocularity. “Are you ready for the interview?”

William flashed the file folder in lieu of actual conversation, which in Thomas’ case he always tried to put off as long as possible.

“Ah, lovely! And your lunch was delicious? Heaven-sent?” A smirk flitted across his features, imbuing his words and tone with the all the sincerity of an unsigned form letter.

“Has the candidate arrived yet?” William brushed off Thomas, who merely grinned evilly and followed him into the interview room. This couldn’t be over fast enough.

* * *

By 3pm, William was feeling positively battered; he’d been pulled into another meeting directly after the interview, and then he’d headed back to his office to write up feedback on both meetings and the interview for his Director. He sat in his chair, the lights out, unwilling to move or to open his eyes for several deep breaths (something else Leslie had gotten on him to practice for weeks until it came naturally).

Coffee. He needed coffee. He grabbed his mug and walked toward the break room, making a beeline for the coffee maker. He hadn’t even realized anyone else was in the room until he heard someone say, her voice low and conspiratorial, “Did you see that she ordered him _lunch_ today?”

“So what?” a lithe blonde replied, shrugging. “Assistants order lunch for their bosses all the time, right?” William shifted uncomfortably; the speaker reminded him a little too much of his ex-wife.

“Rey isn’t even _his_ assistant!” the first woman, a curvaceous, curly-haired woman with dark skin, corrected her. “She’s _Mr. Lawson’s!”_

The other woman nearly choked on her tea, sputtering and coughing as she spat out, “The _President’s_ assistant?!”

“Mmm-hmm,” replied her companion, a curvaceous woman with dark skin and curly hair. “Not only did she order him lunch, but get this: she _also_ made his coffee this morning, special!”

William stood there, frozen in shock. There was no doubt now that they were talking about him. How many other people had gotten coffee and lunch from someone else that day?

“Oh my god, the way she’s always doing stuff like this for him, I thought he was her boss!” The two women snickered, the dark-haired one shaking her head. “When is he finally going to take the hint?!” the blonde continued dramatically.

“Girl, if he ain’t figured it out by now? Never gonna happen.”

“Well, Rey could always tattoo it on her forehead… or bend over his desk!”

The two women howled with laughter, seemingly oblivious to William’s presence, and he slipped out of the room as quickly as he could, his collar hot and his mind reeling. After he returned to his desk with his coffee, he sat for a while, trying to remember his previous interactions with Rey— _that_ was her name, not _Rachel_ or _Rebekah_ —but was ashamed to find that he couldn’t really remember any. Perhaps the women had been right, and he simply was that inattentive. In all fairness, he hadn’t been looking for anyone; he’d been surviving until his next visit with Miles, focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other until he could see his son again. When it came to recognizing the signs of romantic interest, he was woefully out of practice.

Perhaps it was time to change that. Taking the file folder she’d given him this morning in hand, he made his way over to Rey’s desk. She looked up, and he held the folder out to her, putting on his best collegial smile.

“Hey, Rey. How’s your day?”

“Hi, William,” she replied, standing up and leaning across her desk to reach for the folder. “It’s not at all bad, thank you. How’s yours?”

William swallowed, forcibly removing from his mind the gossips’ suggestion of Rey bending over his desk. “Oh, uh…well, it’s… uh… good. It’s good. Better than it might have been otherwise.” He paused, and it wasn’t until she tilted her head, her brow creased with curiosity, that he realized he was staring. Utterly addlepated, he cleared his throat as if it would clear his head. “I, er, I was so wrapped up in what I was doing this morning that I never got to thank you for the coffee,” he blurted.

“Oh! You’re welcome,” she replied, flashing him a dazzling smile. Then she looked down, tucking a freshly-printed piece of paper into the envelope.

“Was it the way you like it?” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

“It was, actually.”

She looked up. “Oh, good!”

“Uhm, so… it was weird, I was coming back from my meeting this morning at 10:30—can you believe we have meetings about meetings?”

Rey’s laugh shimmered, her eyes crinkling as she replied, “Awful, isn’t it?”

“It really is!” he laughed too, at least as much from nervousness as mirth. “But as I was saying, I found out that I’d been pulled into an interview to cover for someone during lunch. Lucky for me, someone had a lunch brought, and I wanted to figure out who it was so that I can pay them back. You don’t happen to know who ordered from Mirage, do you?”

“Oh, that was me, but… you don’t have to pay me back,” she replied, her smile turning almost bashful, and her gaze flitting away.

“Of course I do, Rey. That was nice of you, but I won’t let you put yourself out like that.”

“No!” She stiffened, the word almost sharp, then her eyes flicked from side to side as her cheeks started to pinken. “What, uh, what I meant to say was ‘No, you don’t have to, because it didn’t put me out at all.’”

“But—”

“Really, William, it wasn’t a big deal. I do it for Dennis all the time, and he never minds if I tack one on for myself occasionally.”

He couldn’t explain why his heart dropped into his stomach at the reminder of her proximity to the company’s CEO, and if Rey noticed that his face had fallen as well, she didn’t let on at all.

“I need to get him this brief for his 3:30,” she continued, sliding out from behind her desk, “but I’m glad you liked the lunch, and the coffee!” She withdrew to her boss’ office, shutting the door behind her.

That hadn’t gone at all like he’d thought. Embarrassed, William withdrew to his office to lick his wounds; clearly the gossips in the break room knew nothing.

_Why are you surprised?,_ he thought bitterly. _You’re what? 10, maybe 15 years older than her? She’s young, attractive, and absolutely not thinking of you that way. Just be glad, after everything Val put you through, that there’s any woman out there who just wants to be nice to you for a change._

It was an entirely unsatisfactory answer, but all that he was likely to get. He sighed and collected his belongings. After tapping out an email that said he would be working from home for the rest of the day, he retreated to the safety of his car, and tried not to think about hazel eyes that crinkled, or musical voices with British accents. If anyone noticed that his email went silent and that his production flow dropped to zero for the rest of the day, they didn’t say a word.


	2. Player Two Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and William move forward from their awkward encounter.

This morning had been the first time that Rey had been quite so forward with William, drawing his attention to the little things that she did for him, and after he’d arrived and accepted her coffee without so much as a thanks, she’d spent a good hour vacillating between miffed and hurt. She’d wound up venting her feelings to Kaydel, her best friend at the office, for a solid 10 minutes before the meeting meeting (which, as one of the senior members of the communications team, Kaydel had been obligated to attend). As always, Kaydel had been the best and steadiest friend, talking Rey down from the metaphorical ledge and encouraging her to believe that while William’s head might not have been 100% in the game that morning, that might simply have been because he obviously hadn’t had enough coffee yet. If by the end of the day he hadn’t come to his senses and at least given Rey a sincere thank you, Kaydel suggested, then perhaps Rey ought to write him off as a lost cause. Resolve strengthened, Rey had the order at Mirage for Dennis’ working lunch with the PR team delivered while everyone was busy at the meta-meeting, leaving William’s in his office with a note.

This afternoon, she had been surprised and delighted when he came to her desk to talk to her, although she’d panicked when he felt he might owe her something — he’d seemed very eager to be rid of any debt to her. Still, he’d noticed what she’d done, he’d approached her, and she’d observed his efforts not to peek down her blouse as she’d leaned forward. (His gentlemanly behavior was one of the things she appreciated most about him — if she had to date an older man to be treated with respect and courtesy, by god, that’s what she was going to do! Rey still shuddered when she thought about some of her dates; her one and only Tinder meet-up had been an unqualified disaster, and she still couldn’t look at a picnic basket without getting the collywobbles.)

She’d hated to cut her conversation with William short, but she truly had needed to deliver that briefing to Dennis and prep him for his 3:30 conference call. However, she’d had every intention of re-starting her conversation with him as soon as that was done. When she walked out of Dennis’ office, Rey had been unpleasantly surprised to find the lights in William’s office out, his jacket and satchel gone from their customary places. The email, of course, made it clear that he had left for the day, but why had he gone? He’d seemed interested, after all! To say that Rey was disappointed might have been the understatement of the year. Still, the episode had bolstered Rey’s courage. After all, he’d had to work at keeping his eyes where they belonged — that meant he found her attractive, right? Even so, stolen glances might be enough for the heroine of some romance novel; Rey needed something more substantive to be sure that this wasn’t all just in her head. Now that he was undeniably aware, he needed to make the next move. She was tired of waiting and dropping hints, though. He’d need to pull it together in pretty short order, she decided.

William sat in his driveway, his seatbelt still on, pondering the situation in which he now found himself. Rey had, mentions of their boss notwithstanding, made her interest in him pretty blatantly obvious, and the more he sat and thought about it, the more he wondered at his never noticing before. She always greeted him in the mornings, and even when she wasn’t at her desk when he arrived, she’d usually pop her head in his door and say hello. On Fridays, she’d sometimes ask him about his plans for the weekend; most Monday mornings, she’d ask him how his weekend had been. He’d put it down to her being collegial and outgoing, but now he was looking at it in a different way. Of course, this also meant that she had likely heard from him, at least in the abstract, about Miles. Had she been with the company during his divorce? Well, either way, she was still interested, which was saying something. Was he, though? Could he handle a new relationship? Was it foolish to expect any woman to happily take second place? After all, Miles would always come first in William’s life.

Even if she understood that his son was his top priority, there was another issue that was bothering him: he knew he had a good decade on her, maybe more; he’d never had reason to ask Rey her age. William frowned. He had never really considered the possibility of dating outside of a fairly narrow age range, four or five years in either direction at the most; he couldn’t bring himself to date a woman who needed him to be her father. He’d never understood the appeal of such a thing, but one lonely evening after the divorce, he had ventured into the adult section of the independent video rental store in town and discovered that not only did it have its own section dedicated to it, but the Daddy section was one of the largest ones back there. Apparently, there were a lot of men who did understand the appeal, and sought it out. Surprised (but hardly one to judge, considering where he was standing), he had shrugged and moved on to a different section. (As to what his particular taste was, well… a gentleman may have his vices, but he never asks and he doesn’t tell.)

William shook his head, as if to startle away the flitting thoughts that were muddying the issue. Did he want to date Rey or not? He tried to set aside any questions of how they might handle any awkwardness that might arise, but this was terra incognita, and it was difficult to overstate his anxiety at the idea making the wrong move and screwing up the one sanctuary he’d had throughout all the storms of the past year and a half. He pulled out the phone.

“Dr. Jones’ office,” came the cool voice on the other end.

“Leslie. It’s William. I need to see you ASAP, please.”

There was a pause. “William, is everything alright? Are you in a crisis?”

“I… maybe? I mean, it feels like I am, but probably not the kind of crisis you’re referring to.”

She hummed, and he could hear the sounds of pages turning. “I don’t really have any openings until next week, William, since I’ll be out of the office for Thanksgiving on Thursday and Friday, but… if a phone session would help you, I can give you about 20-30 minutes right now.”

“Well, something came up at the office today, and apparently one of my co-workers is… interested in me? And I don’t know how to handle that.”

“I see. Why don’t you tell me a little more?”

He did, recounting the coffee and folder, the lunch, and the incident with the women in the breakroom, as well as his conversation with Rey after that.

“And what happened after the conversation you had with her?” Leslie asked.

“Well, I… I didn’t know what to do, so I left. I drove home. I called you.”

“I see. And how do you feel about what happened today?”

He hesitated, unsure. “I don’t really know.”

“Well, I’m glad that chose a healthy way to deal with your feelings and called me. Do you think it’s wise to make an important decision when you’re not sure how you feel about it?” Leslie probed.

William sighed.

“Tell me how you feel about her.”

“I mean, she’s attractive, she’s kind… she really, I don’t know, tries to take care of me?”

“You sound uncertain. What is it about the situation that makes you unsure?”

“She’s… young. I think she’s at least 10 years younger than me.”

“What is it about her age that makes you not want to pursue a relationship with her?”

“Why would someone like her be interested in someone like me?!” Well. That had come out rather more bluntly than he’d intended, but there it was.

Leslie paused. “That is a very layered question, William. Are you asking why a younger woman would be interested in an older man, or are you asking what qualities you specifically possess that are attracting Rey’s attention?”

“Both, I guess,” William grumbled. “I mean, look: I just turned 46 yesterday, am recently divorced, and have a kid. I apparently didn’t even notice that she’d been doing these things for me for weeks, maybe months, because my head’s been somewhere else. That doesn’t really scream ‘prize winner’ to me. I don’t know that I really want to get into all of that just to have her break it off because I have too much baggage.”

“I hear you questioning what it is about you that is attractive to her, but that’s a question that only she can answer.”

“I know,” he groaned, miserable.

“Perhaps this would be a good time to work on setting some boundaries. If you’re going to ask anyone out, you should have a solid understanding of what you do and don’t want in a relationship, and know what your limits are. So what is it that you would want from a relationship, whether it was with Rey or anyone else?”

William sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I never wanted to be one of those guys who changed a forty for two twenties, you know?”

Leslie hummed in acknowledgment. “Because of your parents’ history?”

“Well, I was old enough to see what it did to my mother, how much it hurt her.”

“And what does this have to do with Rey?”

He blinked. “Nothing, really.”

“So let me ask you again: rather than focusing on what you don’t want, tell me what you do want from a relationship.”

“It… it would be nice not to be alone, but she would have to understand that Miles comes first. I would need her to be independent, self-sufficient, not someone who’s looking for— well…” he broke off, suddenly embarrassed.

“You know, William, that sounds like you’ve got a decent handle on what you want, honestly. I would simply encourage you to think about whether you find this woman attractive, and if you do, you need to signal to her that you’re interested and then talk to her, someplace that isn’t at work. Ask her out for coffee, something low-pressure, and just talk to her. Find out what she wants from you and see if it meshes with what you want from her.

“I do need to wrap it up with you for now, though; we’re out of time. Now, do you want me to put you down for something the week after Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, just whenever is your first available.”

“Tuesday morning at 9 for an hour?”

“Sure. Thanks, Leslie.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m glad you were able to start working through that; I look forward to hearing about how you solve it.”

“Right. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, William.”

He hung up the call, then thought for a moment. Signal to her that you’re interested. She’d made sure he had the documents he needed, and had made sure he had coffee and food. There was no way for him to know what kind of documents she might need at work, which left coffee and food. Or maybe flowers? Did men do that anymore?

He climbed up to his condo, shedding his coat and bag in his home office, then pulled up a google search. Fifteen minutes later, he was smiling and nodding to himself. This would do nicely.

The next morning, Kaydel was waiting for Rey when she came out of the elevator.

“Rey!” the lithe blonde hissed. “What happened with you and Mr. Oblivious?”

Rey’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean what happened? He left yesterday afternoon, like I said.”

Kaydel blinked at the genuine confusion in Rey’s voice, then raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you… go set your things down?” she asked slowly.

“Oh-kay…”

What had gotten into Kaydel this morning? Rey rounded the corner and stopped, the thud-clatter of her purse on the laminate flooring abnormally loud. She gawped at the arrangement on her desk; vibrant, luscious fruits were clustered into faux blossoms, a bountiful, fresh bouquet. The strawberries and honeydews, in particular, were crying to be eaten, filling the air with sweet enticement. Behind Rey, Kaydel grinned, unseen. When the brunette glided toward the fixture, Kaydel crouched down, picking up the spilled contents of Rey’s purse. Entranced, Rey reached out toward the arrangement, but halted when her fingertip grazed the corner of the attached card. She plucked it from its spindle, reading the large gold-foil letters that spelled out ‘Thank You’ on a chocolate brown background. She turned the card over, but it read only ‘For Rey’. Turning back to Kaydel, Rey saw the look of barely-suppressed exultation on her face, and the two tumbled into a fit of giggles.

“Well, I’ll let you get started, Rey. I think Dennis said he’d be kicking us all out no later than three this afternoon, so I’ve got a ton of things to do before we head out today. Happy Thanksgiving,” she sighed, pulling her friend into a hug and whispering, “Go get ‘im, tiger!”

Rey blushed, but she hugged Kaydel tightly. “Happy Thanksgiving, Kay. I’ll keep you posted!”

Sitting in his office, the door cracked open, he heard something crash to the floor by the front desk, then the sound of giggling. He grimaced when he heard the voice of the blonde from yesterday in the breakroom, but she and Rey seemed to be friends (which was odd, given what she’d said about Rey yesterday, but William knew better than to try to analyze a friendship between two women, especially two women he didn’t know all that well). They exchanged pleasantries and then he heard the clack of heels as one, presumably the blonde, walked away. William was not prepared for what happened next.

Rey set her purse in the file cabinet, then fired up her computer. While she was waiting, she grabbed a skewer from the arrangement and popped one of the strawberries into her mouth. It practically burst with sweetness on her tongue, and before she could think about where she was or any of the hazards of doing so, she moaned.

“Mmmmm! Ohhh my god!” she swooned, then turned as red as the strawberries when she realized what she had just done in the front lobby at work, and how it must have sounded. She wolfed down the rest of the skewer in embarrassed silence.

William was suddenly very glad that he was sitting behind his desk with the door mostly closed. His eyes slid closed as he felt his body stirring, but after a few moments without another peep from the front lobby, things relaxed back to normal and he sighed, releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

As the morning progressed, Rey munched on her gift, swallowing down her little noises of pleasure at particularly tasty and juicy offerings. She was almost ashamed of herself that she didn’t offer to share with anyone… almost. Around 10:30, Dennis sent a company-wide email, stating that he was throwing everyone out and locking the doors at 1, and that they should go home and spend time with their loved ones as soon as they felt they could leave. A few trickled out right away, a small swell at 11, and the vast majority at noon. Rey was still there, setting up a meeting agenda for the Monday after Thanksgiving, when William walked up to her desk, shrugging on a coat.

“You’re still here?” he asked her, his voice surprised and—pleased?

“Yep, still here,” she chirped. “I need to finish this up before I go.”

Taking a deep breath, William reached for his courage. “If you’re not heading out of town or something, would you have time to grab a cup of coffee after you’re done?”

Rey’s eyes widened, and her gaze locked on to his. “Sure. I’ll be done in 5 or 10 minutes… do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

If I say yes, that would let her slip away and not show… but that might be best if she doesn’t really want to do this…

“Where would you like to go? I don’t really spend much time in coffee shops…”

“Oh! Well, there’s The Daily Grind, just down the block, or—how about Domenico’s, on Museum Row?”

“Alright. See you at Domenico’s,” William smiled, unable to hide it. Rey was going to meet him for coffee, and then… who knew?

The coffee shop was dead, a few stragglers and regulars popping in for a drink on their way about their holiday business. Parking had been blessedly simple, comparatively, so William sat, nursing a coffee and staring at his phone, looking up every time the bell on the doorframe jangled. Thankfully, Rey didn’t make him wait long. She ordered something called a beekeeper and then sat down across from him and smiled, cutting straight to the chase.

“So, what’s on your mind, William?” Her smile faltered as he nearly choked on his coffee. “Sorry! I’m sorry! Here, let me get you a napkin!” She leapt up and went to the prep counter, grabbing a handful and returning to the table.

“I didn’t mean to be so blunt, but I’m not very good at tact, sorry.”

He looked at her, his cheeks pink and his eyes soft. Her raw honesty was refreshing, a drink of water in the desert. Now, though, he had to go through with the hard part. He’d been sitting there, thinking of what he wanted to say, but it was time to put it to the test.

“Rey, yesterday… yesterday some things were made clear to me that I hadn’t really thought about or understood before. I really had to sit down and think about it and understand just how much you do for me, when supporting me isn’t even in your job description. You brought me coffee; you knew how I like my coffee, which no one does; you were aware of my calendar before I was, and made sure that I had what I needed to get through my day.” He shook his head. “Not just get through my day. Rey, you made me look good yesterday, and you certainly didn’t have to do that.”

She looked at him nervously, then took a long drink of her latte, letting the steam hide her blush.

“Rey?”

Her eyes flicked up to his, and she could see the uncertainty in the gathering of his brow.

“Have I misunderstood you, and read something into your actions that wasn’t there? Until yesterday, I’d been seeing your actions as those of a friendly, outgoing colleague. Is that how I should continue seeing them?”

She huffed out a nervous laugh. He nodded and looked at her, silently encouraging her to continue, but he noticed her wiping the palms of her hands on her trousers, and the pressure against his chest turned into a single squeeze of his heart.

“I… I don’t… I think maybe we could be something other than just co-workers?” Rey offered, her eyes downcast, her voice small, all her courage having deserted her. She looked back up and he smiled again, a genuine, full expression. Her knees buckled; thankfully, she was already sitting down.

They talked until her stomach rumbled, and she blushed. “I really should eat something.” She paused, fluttering her eyes to his face and then back to her hands. “I don’t suppose you have a suggestion for a good place?”

He held the door for her, and they walked side by side to a bistro down the street, where she turned down his offer to pay for her lunch, but did exchange phone numbers and a promise to talk later that weekend. She kissed his cheek as they parted ways and it was, in all, a most pleasant way to spend an afternoon.


	3. Creating Party...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie finds out about Rey, and is, unfortunately, both predictable and petty. William is determined to seize his opportunity to be with Rey. Rey is eager to build that relationship, but will have to learn to navigate the tricky waters of blended family.

-9 days until Christmas-

It hurt every time he took Miles back to Rick’s house, but at least it was December. It would be Christmas soon, and the promise of Miles’ three week break was the light at the end of the tunnel. Even though he’d tried to pretend he was too cool for Christmas music, Miles hadn’t been able to resist for long, and most of the drive had been the two of them singing carols as loudly as they could (and changing the lyrics, Weird Al style, to the ones they didn’t really like). William hadn’t even made it home before Miles’ name flashed on his caller ID.  
  
“Hey, kiddo, did you forget something?”  
  
Valerie’s snarl ripped through William’s speakers. “Who the _fuck_ is Rey?!”  
  
“Valerie,” he began, wincing at her language, “why do you have Miles’ phone?”  
  
“Don’t try to change the subject!” his ex-wife snapped. “Who is Rey, and why are there pictures of her on my son’s phone?!”  
  
William’s car jerked to the side of the road and rolled to a stop as he took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling loudly. Then he took another.  
  
“Don’t ignore me, William!”  
  
“Valerie, he’s _our_ son, that’s _my_ phone, and my personal life is _not_ an emergency. It can wait until I get home.”  
  
“You hang up that phone and you can forget about Christmas!”  
  
White hot rage lanced through him, and his knuckles whitened against the black steering wheel.  
  
“You can’t do that! I _will_ call the police, Val, don’t think I won’t, and you won’t be able to cry your way out of it this time!”  
  
A slight inhale on the other end was the only indication that she’d heard, but she didn’t reply. His heart recoiled from his own words as he felt his anger growing, but the relief of finally venting the build-up of his feelings over her treacherous behavior felt too good to stop.  
  
“Don’t ignore me, Valerie,” he mocked, a snarl lifting one side of his upper lip.  
  
“You’d _better_ call.” Her tone was arctic.  
  
“Oh, I will.” William’s voice carried a cold fury that gave Valerie pause; he’d never spoken to her this way before. “After we hang up, you’re going to return my phone to Miles, and you’re not going to take it from him again. _I_ pay for that phone, it belongs to _me,_ and I’ve given it to _Miles_ to use.”  
  
Any further reply was cut off as Valerie disconnected the call. Several minutes of deep, controlled breathing gave him a modicum of control back, and he pulled back onto the road to head home.

-8 days until Christmas-

“Good morning, William!” Rey greeted him brightly. Relief rushed through him at the sound of her voice, which was absurd, but there it was. He handed her a to-go cup, and she took it with a wordless sound of surprise, followed by an appreciative smile. A sip; a raised eyebrow.  
  
“Is this an earl grey latte?”  
  
William’s eyes widened; he was not about to confess that last Friday morning, before she’d arrived, he’d peeked into the trash can at her desk to see what kind of drink she preferred. She must have noticed his rising panic, because she gave him a warm smile.  
  
“I am _such_ a British stereotype,” she sighed, “but it _is_ my favorite.”  
  
“You’re awfully chipper,” he grumbled, but his lips curved up, just a little. Her next question chased the smile right off his face, though.  
  
“How was your weekend?” Rey couldn’t help but notice that William looked as if he’d taken a bite of a lemon. “That good, huh? We can talk about it later, if you want.”  
  
He gave a minute shrug. “Maybe. Ex is being a Grinch, that’s all.”  
  
Rey murmured sympathetically. “Today is Thai, if you want me to add an order to the delivery for you.”  
  
William nodded; hopefully his attorney would call him back today, so having lunch brought in would mean more time to eat and more focus on the discussion.  
  
“Chicken pad see ew, please.”  
  
Rey jotted it down on her sticky note, and took another sip of her tea.  
  
“Well, if you want to talk about it, you know where to find me. Thank you for the latte!”  
  
His heart warmed and he smiled, his eyes soft. “You’re welcome. I’ll get to it, then.”  
  
He walked into his office, hung up his coat and scarf, and sat down at his desk, quickly lapsing from thoughts of Rey into brooding over last night’s confrontations. After the judge had dismissed his concerns and given Valerie everything she wanted, after the downward spiral that resulted from losing his family, William had taken Leslie’s advice and retained an attorney. Last night’s phone calls had really driven home how wise his therapist’s advice had been.  
  
“Better to have a lawyer and not need one, than to need one and not have one,” she had said, handing him a card for Calrissian and Associates, Attorneys at Law. She pointed out that Miles was only 11 and therefore, William ought to be prepared for this to be a major issue for at least the next seven years of his life. Don, his attorney, was an intelligent and charismatic young lawyer who was making a name for himself on the front line of ‘fathers’ rights’ litigation: the idea that the family court system tended to be biased toward women gaining custody, even if they were not the better parent, and that fathers tended to get short shrift unless they went into court prepared to fight for equal importance in their children’s lives.  
  
“You shouldn’t have to win at roulette to stay in your son’s life,” Don had said to William when they first met—that is, William’s rights shouldn’t depend on getting a sympathetic judge. Unfortunately, William had been entirely naive and on the back foot when Valerie had filed for divorce. She’d had a divorce lawyer; he hadn’t. The idea of hiring an attorney had been distasteful to him, and he’d dismissed it outright, counting on everyone behaving like reasonable adults with differences of opinion. He’d been badly mistaken.  
  
A knock on the door interrupted his moody thoughts.  
  
“William, it’s five after—you’re late for your meeting with Dennis,” Rey said softly, her brows furrowed with concern. William blanched.  
  
“What, uh, what were we meeting about?”  
  
“Your annual review?”  
  
William looked appropriately horrified, and he got up so violently he nearly toppled his computer monitor. He grabbed his portfolio from the desk.  
  
“I’m bringing Dennis some coffee, would you like some?”  
  
“You have no idea,” he mumbled miserably, and headed over to Dennis’ office, shutting the door behind him.  
  
_Well,_ Rey thought, looking at the closed door. _He’s out of sorts._ She wondered what had happened to upset him, but was no closer to figuring it out by the time she’d returned with two coffees.  
  
Where the meeting brought some good news (and Christmas cheer in the form of a December bonus check), the phone call was mostly disappointment. Don had explained that while Valerie keeping Miles from visiting over Christmas break would be a violation of the visitation orders, the police would not enforce his visitation rights. Instead, he would have to go after the fact and file contempt of court charges against her, then drag her into court. He should, of course, document everything, including video recordings if he tried to pick Miles up and Valerie refused. If she still had her attorney on retainer, Don continued, that attorney would be obligated to advise her to follow the visitation orders—but if Val’s attorney mentioned the motion for contempt of court, then she might also know that there was nothing he could do in the moment to preserve his Christmas visitation. The idea that she could simply ruin Christmas haunted him, and the notion that she wouldn’t feel any effects of it until whenever a hearing could be scheduled was of little comfort.  
  
Now, though, he was wrestling with the question of whether, what, and how much to tell Rey. It was weighing on him to the point that he’d declined her offer of a drink and a friendly ear that evening. Did she need to know? Given Valerie’s open hostility, it seemed like he ought to at least let Rey know what had happened. If this derailed their fledgling relationship, it was simply not meant to be, he decided.  
  
Rey and Kaydel were halfway through a pitcher of Monday Margaritas at Cantina Lola, digging into a plate of nachos and talking about Rey’s weekend, when her phone went off. She raised an eyebrow, typed out a response, and went back to eating and chatting, but her message notification went off again. She smiled at the messages, thought for a moment, and sent back a response. When the fourth notification came in, she glared at the phone for a moment.  
  
“I’m sorry, Kay. I’ll let him know I’m out with a friend and I’ll call him later.”  
  
“Oh no, Rey, it’s ok,” Kaydel began, a mischievous smirk on her face. She’d been low-key shipping Rey and William for a while, after all, so any opportunity to smoosh them together was one that she was definitely interested in—but the look of perplexed alarm on Rey’s face was enough to bring her up short. “What’s up, doll?”  
  
“I… I’m not sure what to make of this,” Rey replied, turning over her phone when Kaydel beckoned.  
  
Kaydel looked at the phone, then at Rey, then back at the phone, reading carefully, scanning for nuance.

“What does your phone number have to do with anything?” Kaydel asked, one eye narrowed and a frown on her lips.  
  
Rey shook her head. “I don’t know! Why would it matter how his ex feels about pictures of us?”  
  
Kaydel’s thoughtful face deepened. “Well, what kind of pictures were they?”  
  
Rey started, scandalized. “Nothing to get upset over! We went ice skating at the rink and then out for hot chocolate!”  
  
Kaydel paused, then quietly offered, “Do you think his ex is jealous?”  
  
Rey froze, then tilted her head in thought. “I… guess anything’s possible? But his ex is with someone else, maybe even remarried?”  
  
The blonde cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean she’s not jealous.” She pursed her lips, then asked, “Are you going to reply?”  
  
“Only to tell him to call me later. This feels like something that should be talked about in person.”  
  
Kaydel nodded and popped a tortilla chip in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “You know, if he’s worried about Miles having your phone number, I’d say it’s _definitely_ jealousy. He’s worried that she’ll try to contact you.”  
  
“Let her,” Rey replied, her voice terribly soft, her eyes narrowed and burning with outrage. Here was a woman who’d had a good, gentle man as a husband, and had chosen to throw him away; a woman who looked at a healthy, kind, loving child and saw only a tool to hurt her ex-husband; a woman who wasn’t content to wreck her ex-husband’s life only once. The fact that this woman had been too stupid to appreciate what she’d had didn’t mean Rey was obligated to step aside. If Kay was right, then it wasn’t that she even wanted William back—she simply couldn’t bear for her ex to be happy.  
  
“Whoa, Rey, you’re scary!” Kaydel smiled, gently elbowing her friend. The tension thus dispelled, they both laughed and went back to discussing their Secret Santas.  
  
On the way home, Rey tried to call, but it rolled straight to voicemail, so she left a short message and then got dressed for bed. She was snug under her blanket and reading a battered, dog-eared copy of _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_ when he called back.  
  
“Hi, William,” she answered, her voice missing its usual upbeat tone.  
  
“Hi, Rey. How was your dinner?”  
  
“Oh, it was alright,” she replied. There was an awkward pause as he tried to figure out how to explain things to her and she tried to figure out what kind of question to ask. In the end, she went for the simplest one.  
  
“So, what exactly happened?”  
  
He sighed. “My ex called me just after I dropped Miles off. She used his cell phone, so I didn’t even know it was her, at first. She demanded to know who you were, said that Miles had pictures of you on his phone. She was angry, and threatened to try to keep Miles away from me for Christmas.”  
  
“That’s horrible!” Rey gasped. “Poor Miles! But… what did she say she found objectionable about the photos, particularly?”  
  
William sighed again. “She really didn’t. She just wanted to know who you were and why there were pictures of you on Miles’ phone.”  
  
Rey’s lips set in a thin line as she realized Kay had been right on the money. Well, let this stupid cow try and wreck _her_ relationship! Whether as a result of her own nature or as a result of the deprivation that came with being a child in foster care, Rey was decidedly fierce in her attachment to and defense of anything she could call her own—especially the few relationships she’d built over the years.  
  
“Well, jealousy isn’t a good look on anyone,” Rey sniffed, striving for calm. “So, what did you tell her when she asked?”  
  
“That my personal life is none of her business.”  
  
“That it isn’t! What are you going to do about Miles and Christmas, though?”  
  
“Carry on,” he shrugged. “If she does it, I’ll take her to court over it.”  
  
Rey hummed her approval. “Good. A father _should_ fight for his child.” She paused. “How long will he be with you this time?”  
  
“Well, except for Christmas Day, he’ll be with me the whole 3 weeks.”  
  
“Wow! So when do you pick him up?”  
  
“Wednesday night.”  
  
“Ah,” Rey said, and stretched, an act that morphed into a yawn. “Wanna have dinner tomorrow?” she asked as she burrowed more deeply into her covers.  
  
William smiled, surprised at her forwardness, and then at his own surprise. “Sure. You pick, my treat.”  
  
Rey wanted to protest that he wasn’t going to pay for her, really she did, but the blankets were warm and she was cozy and having someone who wanted to treat her to dinner, to take care of her, was so _nice._  
  
“Mmkay,” she breathed sleepily. “Good night, William. See you tomorrow.”  
  
“Good night, Rey.”

-7 days until Christmas-

Predictably, Tuesday _dragged._ It was hard to focus on anything, given that each was peeking at the other while trying not to be caught doing it. It wasn’t until the second time that Rey nearly spilled a mug of tea all over her blouse, and not until William nearly embarrassed himself with some awful typos in an email to Jamie, that either of them succeeded in ignoring the other and getting an iota of work done. William was beginning the final downhill slope around four that afternoon when his phone buzzed with a text from Miles.

William stared at his phone, his mouth pulling to one side and then the other as he weighed it out. On the one hand, it would be far more convenient for him not to have to make the extra trips back and forth just to have him there on Christmas morning. On the other hand, he was immediately inclined to be suspicious. Why did Valerie want Miles somewhere else on Christmas Day?

He tapped out a short message to Valerie asking her what time he should pick up Miles on Monday night, then tried to put it out of his mind and finish up work for the week, although with this new development, he suddenly had quite a bit more time on his hands. His phone pinged again, though he was surprised to see Rey’s name. She simply wanted to let him know she was wrapping up for the day and ready to go whenever he was. He smiled, and decided that tomorrow could wait.  
  
They were on the elevator when she turned to him, smiled, and asked “Want to go for a movie? The new Queen biopic looks pretty good, I thought.”  
  
William hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Dinner first or after?”  
  
She turned a blinding smile on him. “First, of course! Less crowded. Less chance of paying seven dollars for a cup of butter and salt disguised as popcorn because I’m starving,” she said, a wry smile on her face, and William chuckled.  
  
“Plenty of opportunity to change our plans,” she added, a mischievous quirk to her lips and her eyebrow, and William’s breath caught. “After all,” she continued, her eyes tracing the seams of the elevator car, “you don’t sound too enamored with the movie idea.”  
  
_Of course,_ he thought, wrestling his less gentlemanly impulses under control. Something about the curve of her smile, though, and the twinkle in her eye made him less sure that her comment had been entirely innocent.  
  
The first thing that she noticed was that he didn’t so much as look at the drink menu. Rey did, just to have a peek at it, but she had no intention of drinking during their first proper dinner together. Apparently, he didn’t either, as they both ordered water. Over a pair of steaks, they talked more, mostly about their hobbies (generally of the solitary variety) and routines (again, mostly solitary, minus dinners with Kaydel and weekends with Miles), and a little about plans for Christmas.  
  
“…I mean, is it wrong for me to wonder why she would want that?” William asked, and Rey shook her head.  
  
“No, it’s not wrong, but… most people don’t do something that they get nothing out of, William. As long as it’s not hurting you or Miles, it seems like it benefits you too…” It wasn’t that Rey wanted to defend a woman who was clearly hostile to her presence in William’s life, but she could see that his intense focus on Valerie’s unclear motives and possible benefits was clearly making him bitter and unhappy. “This way, you don’t have to make so many trips and you actually have him on Christmas morning.”  
  
“But—” he began, and then stopped. He wanted to object, although he quickly realized he didn’t _have_ any rational objections.  
  
“I get it, William,” Rey shook her head. “But you trying to figure out what she gets out of it so that you can clamjam her happiness would make you no better than her.”  
  
He blinked. “Did you say ‘clamjam?’”  
  
She turned scarlet.  
  
“What does that even mean?”  
  
Rey turned redder, which she hadn’t realized she could do.  
  
“Cockblock?” she tried, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
William raised an eyebrow, pinning her with a kind of look she hadn’t thought he possessed. It would have been scathing, if they were strangers. They weren’t, but it was still heated, and his glasses, perched as they were on his nose, only amplified the intensity. Shock mingled with interest, and just enough disapproval to feel transgressive.  
  
_Well,_ she thought, resisting the urge to fan herself. _This is going to be an interesting evening._  
  
“I feel like I’m being manipulated,” he protested. “Why didn’t _she_ ask me?”  
  
“You probably are,” Rey agreed. “But since you realize it, can it really harm you? Why not focus on what makes you happy instead? Be happy in spite of her—or even _to_ spite her.”  
  
He smiled, and gently shook his head. She really was perfect—almost angelic, and then she’d say something like that, something that kept her human.  
  
“You’re right.” His hand reached across the table, covering hers completely. “I ought to be focusing on you.”  
  
Rey felt her color rise again, and she wanted to look away, but she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him. His gaze was hypnotic, intense, and warm.  
  
William couldn’t see anyone but Rey, and the way she was looking at him right now, her expression open, inviting him to drink all of her in; her soft, pink lips barely parted; her eyes a rich, honeyed hazel, trapping him like amber; could he be blamed if he didn’t want to escape, if he just let her presence wash over him and preserve this feeling? He simply wanted to forget how much it had hurt, to feel whole again, to have someone whose presence drove away the loneliness and made life a thing to savor, rather than a thing to be endured. And he wanted…well, of course he wanted _that_ , he wanted _her,_ but he needed it to be so much more than simply scratching an itch. They’d seen one another a handful of times, but this was their first dinner date. They were taking everything deliberately slowly. He couldn’t just throw that out the window (much though he wanted to), and honestly? A balk would be unbearable, a blow that would shatter his still-recovering ego. Better, therefore, to let her initiate.  
  
Rey silently cursed their agreement to take everything slowly. The more rational part of her, of course, understood why it was wise to go slow, and appreciated William even more for the fact that he understood and had heartily agreed with it. It was just part of the way he made her feel cared for as a person and as a woman. Given the difference in their ages, she felt truly fortunate that he didn’t try to care for her in way that made her feel like a child. He listened to her, he took her seriously, and was kind and thoughtful, if not always observant. Still… the part of her that was dying to know the unguarded William McTavish—the naked man, in many senses of the word—was awake and curious. No, not curious— _hungry._  
  
_Would it be so bad to be_ that couple _snogging in the back of a movie theatre?_  
  
“Rey?” he enquired softly, interrupting her reverie. His eyes were dark, but soft, and his lips looked more inviting than she had ever seen them before.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
A corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk that made her knees wobbly. “What was the name of that movie you wanted to see?


	4. Loading Disco Stick...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we earn our rating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parnassus Middle School, where Miles goes, is of course named for Abraham H. Parnassus, of Saturday Night Live. The school secretary, Audie, is my tip of the hat to ComatoseButAudible, an outstanding writer and courageous pioneer of crack ships between Rey and more or less every Adam Driver Character ever–including Reynassus. (Read [Look At Me.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152452) Trust me on this one.)

-6 days until Christmas-

Rey awoke, bleary-eyed, to the blaring of her alarm. Why did she have to go to work today? She slapped the screeching black box and snuggled back under her comforter, smiling as she thought about the previous night. As if in response to that thought, her phone buzzed. Her face blossomed into a blinding smile as she tapped several rapid responses.

William looked at his phone and felt his heart beat a little faster. He hadn’t gotten quite enough sleep the night before, as he’d laid awake for quite a while last night reliving the feeling, and the new territory they’d ventured into, sitting in the back row of the theatre on a Tuesday night like a couple of teenagers without a care in the world. Yes, he could certainly do that again—preferably sooner rather than later—and what he _had_ seen of the movie wasn’t bad. Would it be too obvious to ask her out again tonight? Flipping through his other messages, Val still hadn’t called or texted him back about when to pick Miles up—meaning that the last time they’d talked, he’d agreed to pick up Miles from school that afternoon, so that was still the agreement. He sighed in frustration, then pushed himself out of bed. Showered, shaved, and dressed comfortably, given the hours on the road he still might have ahead of him, he headed out a little early to make sure he could get Rey another earl grey latte and maybe one of those kouign amann that the girl at the bakery had tried to talk him into last Friday.

He sent another message to Valerie to confirm the change to the holiday schedule and he tried to distract himself while waiting for her reply. He surprised Rey with her tea latte and fruit tart waiting on her desk when she got in (the kouign amann had been all out, sadly), and had watched her eyes roll back with enjoyment—and he waited. He had coffee with Emily from Marketing to go over changes one of his clients wanted to their ad campaign, and waited. He waited, and waited, and as lunch drew nearer, he mused with some bitterness that he’d been divorced over a year and _still_ his ex-wife was somehow in control of his life. But it was what it was, and he’d have to leave soon to get Miles from school— _the school!_ He could call the school. After all, Valerie would have had to alert the school that he was going to pick Miles up directly. Pleased at his clever idea, he dialed, and a woman answered on the first ring.

“Parnassus Middle, this is Audie, how can I help you?”

“Audie, this is William McTavish, Miles McTavish’s father. Can you confirm that his mother sent a note with him so that I can pick him up this afternoon?”

“Mr. McTavish, what grade is he in?” He told her, and she replied, “Hold one moment please.”

He waited, silently congratulating himself on thinking to call the school.

“Mr. McTavish, Miles is not in school today.”

William’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry, did you say he’s not in school?”

“Yes, sir, I did. His mother called this morning and said he would be absent today.”

William blinked, stunned.

“…I…ok, thank you.”

“Thank you, Happy Holidays.”

“You too,” he said, without thinking, and hung up the phone. He stared at it for another moment, then called Valerie. It rang a few times, then rolled over to voicemail. Growling, he hung up, then dialed again. After the fourth call, it began rolling straight to voicemail, but he didn’t trust himself just then, so he hung up and called Miles instead. After three rings, he picked up.

“Hi, dad.”

“Miles, why aren’t you at school? Are you sick?”

A pause. “No, we’re at Donna and Geno’s for Christmas.”

“Who—who are Donna and Geno?”

“Rick’s mom and dad.”

Fire rolled through William’s blood, and he felt like steam was pouring out of his ears. Still, this was Miles he was talking to—not his fault, and he didn’t need to hear it. Deep breaths.

After a moment, “Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Did the school call you or something?”

“No, no, I never heard back from your mother what time to pick you up on Monday. Since the last I’d heard from her was today, and the judge in court says that you’re not old enough to choose for yourself yet, I had to hear it from your mom.”

“Oh.” Then, distantly: “Mom! Moooom!” Val’s voice, then “Dad’s on the phone… I _did_ tell him! Just answer your text, mom!” A squawk from Valerie; a groan from Miles.

“She’s mad now. I better go. Talk to you later, Dad.”

“Ok, but, one more question: where do Donna and Geno live?”

“Cleveland.”

“Cleveland… _Ohio?”_

“Yeah. Gotta go, Dad.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, dad.” The line went dead.

William scrubbed his face with one hand. He _had_ agreed to it. He hadn’t known what he was agreeing _to,_ but he really didn’t have a good reason to make an issue out of it. Rey’s words from last night floated in his head; if he tried to interfere with a “family Christmas trip,” he’d only been seen as petty.

_Look on the bright side,_ he told himself, rolling his neck and hearing the crunch and pop of tightened muscles. _Maybe tonight could be another “movie” night._

He looked at his calendar, but of course it was clear, since he had planned to be out of town for the rest of today, and to spend Thursday and Friday with Miles choosing and decorating a Christmas tree and so on. The firm was closed Monday and Tuesday, and now he’d be getting Miles Monday night or Tuesday morning. He suddenly had a lot of time on his hands. Donning his coat and scarf, he took his briefcase and headed for the elevator.

“Oh!” Rey said, walking back to her desk from the copier just as he was leaving. “Heading out for lunch?” William shook his head, and smiled.

“Heading home, actually.”

Rey’s eyes widened. “Are you feeling ok?” she whispered.

“Fine. I’d scheduled this afternoon off, and didn’t have any reason to change it.”

Rey shrugged and her lips pouted slightly, then she said something—but William didn’t hear her reply. He saw it, but he wasn’t much of a lip-reader.

“William?” she called, her voice low and musical, drawing every syllable out of his name. He blinked as he repressed a shiver. Her eyes were alight with mischief—she’d caught him staring at her lips.

“Hmm?”

“Have a good afternoon.”

_Oh. That wasn’t what…well…_ ** _screw it,_ **he decided. He leaned toward her, into the counter, and saw her eyes widen, just enough to betray her interest. This was either the best idea that he’d ever had or the worst, but everything else in his life had been turned on its head today…

“Have dinner with me,” he whispered. “Tonight. Come over when you’re done with work.”

She nodded, her eyes darkening, then asked, “What should I wear?”

“Lipstick,” he replied, and when she gasped, he winked at her, turning and leaving her sputtering in shock as he walked out and boarded the elevator. _Who am I and where is William Douglas McTavish?!,_ he thought to himself, shaking his head and chuckling as he went down. So much for taking things slowly.

A stop by Casa G’s, long enough to pick up a pan of manicotti and most of the assorted things that made a good Italian dinner, and another by the drug store (he told himself that he was buying the box _just in case,_ a thing which he completely failed at playing it cool about, though he did manage not to embarrass himself, which was a good sign as far as he was concerned), and he was home before three in the afternoon. He texted Rey his address, changed his sheets _(just in case!),_ and spent about half an hour picking at invisible snags on his couch and making sure the toilet was clean. So, by 3:30 in the afternoon, William had no idea what to do with himself. One tap led to another, and he found himself with an open google search listing articles for people getting back into the dating scene in middle age, post-divorce.

_“’Be psychotically optimistic about love’?!”_ His eyebrows shot up. _Closed._

He read an article by a middle-aged woman whose husband had come out of nowhere and said he didn’t love her anymore and left; that one hit close enough to home that he found himself with wet cheeks. It was wrenching, and ultimately unhelpful.

_“Pre-date Eight! A checklist to help you get back on the field!”_ Well, sports metaphor notwithstanding, what could it hurt? William scanned the list.

_1) Shower. Even if you showered this morning, do it again before your date. At the very least, for the love of god, take a soapy washcloth to the essentials!_   
_2) Brush your teeth. Your date doesn’t want to know what you had for your last meal!_   
_3) Make sure you have enough cash to get home, just in case._ _  
_ _4) Tell a friend where you’re going to be. Guys, you may think this is just for the ladies, but it’s not! (RELATED: One Man’s Horror Story of the Psycho Date from Hell!)_

_If there’s any chance your date might turn into an all-nighter, here are some important tips!_

_5) Unless you’ve made plans to go somewhere specific, tidy your place! (If you know you’re not going back to your place, pack a change of clothes and spare yourself the “Walk of Shame.”)_   
_6) Make sure that everything is fresh, including your sheets!_   
_7) Clean your bathroom. Nothing will freak out a date faster than seeing a skeevy-looking toilet!_ _  
_ _8) Don’t assume your partner will be carrying protection! Make sure you have what you need._

For the most part, these were pretty basic—who didn’t clean their toilet before company came over?! That he’d already done the vast majority of what was on this list made him feel a little less out of his depth. His eyebrows shot up, though, when he found the “bonus suggestion” at the end:

_Now, this one is more for the fellas than the ladies, although it’s good advice all the way around: If it’s_ been awhile, _do yourself and your date a favor, and give the equipment a solid test run, start to_ finish.

William stared, actually shocked by what was being suggested—and by a fairly mainstream magazine, too! Still…everything else on the list had seemed pretty common-sense…and it would be at least another hour before Rey showed up…

He stripped once he was in the bedroom, and turned on the shower. The steam was fairly instantaneous, and he stepped in, letting the water warm him. He closed his eyes and remembered the taste of Rey, the softness of her mouth against his, how eager she’d been to kiss him, how beautiful she’d looked walking out of the theatre, hair mussed and lips swollen. Now he let himself picture her, perched on his lap, mewling as he kissed her neck and pawed at her breasts through her shirt…he could almost _feel_ her in his hands. He wrapped one hand around himself, letting his mind’s eye take him on a tour of her body as he stroked. The reasoning behind the advice quickly became apparent, as his breathing sped up and all the feeling in his body was concentrated in the line between his navel and the head of his shaft. He groaned as he spilled into the drain, enjoying the rush, but knowing it had come sooner than he would have wanted it to in alternative scenarios.

Now he really did need that pre-date shower.

Freshly cleaned and feeling a little more relaxed, he stepped out and dried off, opting to wear another button-down shirt with a pair of jeans. His phone told him it was 4:02, and that he had a text from Rey—a tube of red lipstick and the message _Heading your way soon. Should be there 5:30-ish?_

_Sounds good,_ he replied, turning on the oven to pre-heat. It sounded great, actually. Once the manicotti was in the oven and the timer was set, he still had over an hour. Shrugging, he switched on the TV and his console, and waited for _Fortnite_ to load—maybe Miles would be on. Slipping on his headset, he wondered how so much had changed so quickly. He didn’t know how it had happened, but he was grateful that the two kids who had been on his first squad had sort of adopted him—or at least, they weren’t embarrassed by him—and through practice, he’d gotten marginally better at the game. Once they’d released Creative, he’d bought a pass and started building his island, inviting d00msn4k3, fl0boi, and Miles whenever he was online. He found he preferred the building and the friendlier games to the violence of _Battle Royale,_ although he felt obligated to try to join Miles’ squad whenever he was online in order to monitor the kind of people that his son was interacting with.

The hour passed fairly quickly as he worked on a new structure, and Rey’s knock on his door actually startled him. He turned off the TV, tucked his controller and headset under the couch, and got up to answer the door. Rey was dressed in a cozy oversized sweater, leggings, and booties, her hair pulled back and cherry red lipstick on. His mouth went dry, his palms got wet, and he just managed not to gawp like an idiot.

“Come on in. How was the traffic?”

“Oh, you know. The usual,” she shrugged, then gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Dinner smells amazing! What are we having?”

“Manicotti, salad, bread.”

“Mmm, I love Italian!”

“You want anything to drink?” He wasn’t going to tell her that his brain had hit TILT at her hum of approval.

“Water’s fine.” She had decided against bringing a bottle of wine, after noticing he didn’t drink at their last dinner. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever having seen him drink.

Pulling the pan out of the oven, William reset the timer for 10 minutes, then put the bread in. Rey availed herself of the restroom, refreshing her lipstick and giving herself a little pep talk; telling herself she hadn’t mistaken the change in his body language or his innuendo. Emerging after nodding sharply at her reflection, she asked, “Can I help?”

“The table is set, so I don’t think so,” he smiled. On the table rested a salad bowl full of color and the pan of steaming pasta and cheese, and he walked in with the bread on a cutting board. He pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit before scooting her in and seating himself.

“This looks wonderful!” Rey enthused, giving William a blinding smile. He colored slightly, but smiled. The conversation flowed between them, mostly light and cheerful, though there were a couple of silences when one or the other of them touched on something tender. Learning about Rey only endeared her to him; there was so much to her that lurked below the surface! She found his rapt attention intoxicating; few people in her life had ever really looked at her like she was interesting or important, and she found herself falling more deeply for him. The amount of food someone of Rey’s size could consume was surprising, but he didn’t find that he really minded, and dinner passed happily.

After clearing away the dishes (Rey had insisted on helping), they sat on the couch, Rey tucked underneath a throw blanket and leaning against William’s side.

“Mind if I find something to watch?” she asked, looking for the remote. He turned on the television, then grimaced at the _Fortnite_ loading screen that came up—he’d completely forgotten to turn it off!

“Oh, you play?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“You know, a little, yeah…it’s something that Miles likes…”

“I play a little too,” she said, smiling. “My brother Finn still lives in London, and we play together sometimes.” She blushed. “I’m… not very good at it, I’m afraid.”

“I’m really not either,” he offered, looking down at her affectionately. She pursed her lips in thought.

“Why don’t you play? I’ll watch.”

He kept to the island, preferring to keep away from the stress of _Battle Royale,_ in addition to keeping his headset off. She tucked herself into his side, resting her head on his arm, and despite the modernity of the game, the scene was very domestic, very tranquil, and William decided he could get used to this—a thought that simultaneously delighted, aroused, and terrified him. The way that time slipped through his fingers; the easy way that she fit against him, like she belonged there; it was almost too much.

‘Almost too much’ instantly changed to ‘not enough’ as Rey leaned against his shoulder and reached with her lips to kiss the side of his neck. In his shock, he dropped the controller, and she pulled away in fear that she’d overstepped. The amazed, breathless way he was looking at her quickly let her know that she had not.

“You know, I really do like…” she trailed off, as her sparkling eyes caught his. “…your place…” she finished, swallowing. His eyes broke away from hers, following the movement of her lips, the motion of her throat, the flash of her teeth as they pulled on her bottom lip. He leaned in closer to her ear.

“Do you?” he breathed, his voice low, and he felt her shiver.

“What I’ve seen of it, yes,” she murmured, her nostrils flaring and her pupils darkened.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her jaw, just below her ear, and was gratified to hear her shaky exhale, and to see her tilt her head, giving him better access. He leaned in, kissing her neck and moving down to the hollow of her throat before she raised her head back and met his lips with her own. He had not expected her to raise up and turn, settling astride his lap. He was not about to complain, however. His hands fell limp on either side, afraid of pushing too far and determined to let her keep control, and for her part, Rey kissed him like she needed him to live. Feeling her body so near, so pressed against his own, William allowed himself to consider how to move their activities from the couch to his bed, if she so chose. His planning was interrupted, however, by Rey taking his wrists and planting his hands on her very firm, decidedly attractive backside. At that point, his brain gave up the ghost, flitting out of his body along with his groan, and he found himself acting purely on character and impulse.

He gripped her ass, pulling her closer against him, and she moaned into his mouth, her fingers sliding into his hair. She let his hands rove up and down her sides, caressing her through her clothes. He stroked her belly, her waist, her hips, and occasionally tugged her more flush against him as their kisses continued to heat. Rey reluctantly parted with his lips to sit fully upright, and her hands moved from his hair, fingers gliding across the outer edges of his ears. His eyes slid closed as his head tilted back, and he panted, her touch sending electricity crackling all through him.

“Mmm, you like that?” Her voice was sultry, deep, and his eyes snapped open to find her looking at him as if he were a five-course meal and she was starved—never mind the manicotti.

“Yes,” he rasped, helpless before her. Had it ever felt like this? He couldn’t even think about it right now; he just wanted to let her do…whatever it was she was doing.

“William?” she whispered as she nipped on his earlobe. A soft groan was his only response. “William, I need to know you want this. We said we’d go slow, but…” She shifted, backing away from where they were rubbing against one another, but he pulled her closer.

“Don’t,” he whispered, kissing her throat as her eyes fluttered closed. “Don’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

“Ohhh,” she groaned, leaning back, seeking a little friction against his lap. He responded, pulling her hard against him and leaning up to kiss her collarbone, nipping her gently. She pushed against his chest, gently, pushing him back, and while he was momentarily disappointed, it was soon allayed by the removal and tossing to one side of her chunky green sweater. Her breasts, beautiful and high, were teasing William from beneath a white lace bra, begging him to play, and he suddenly found himself entirely too confined both in his jeans and on his couch.

“Can we—?”

“Yes, please!”

_This is really happening,_ he boggled, grateful and astonished as he got up to lead her to his bedroom. He closed the door and rounded on Rey, kissing her with abandon as she made short work of his buttons, peeling his shirt off as if it were on fire.

_“Holy shit,”_ she breathed, drinking him in.

“What?” he broke off his kiss, unnerved.

“You,” she replied, her eyes roving over his exposed chest and arms. “You’re _ridiculous!_ How much time do you spend at the gym?!”

He couldn’t disguise the thrill that her praise gave him, preening even as he was twitching to escape his pants. Instead, he hoisted her up by her waist, and was both gratified and aroused by her immediately wrapping her legs around his waist. She squealed as he carried her over to the bed, putting her down gently, as if she were precious. He kissed his way up from the waistband of her leggings even as he peeled them down, breathing in a heady scent that was deeply erotic. He stripped his own pants with far less ceremony, and climbed over her, pressing her into the mattress while he kissed her lips, her neck, and the tops of her breasts.

Rey wrestled herself to her elbows, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra and toss it carelessly away, and William took the opportunity to ravish her breasts, but he knew that he couldn’t continue much longer; he hadn’t seen this kind of action in an embarrassingly long time, pre-game shower be damned.

“Please,” he whispered, his hands on the band of her panties.

“Yes,” she breathed, lifting her bottom. Hers disposed and his exchanged for a wrapping, he hovered over her, but a hand on his chest stopped him.

“What?” he asked, suddenly unsure.

She smiled, indicated his erection, then winked said, “Trade me.” He obliged, drinking in her beauty as he lay beneath her lithe body, poised atop him. She sank onto him slowly, eyes widening and breath catching, and he was breathing slowly through his nose, trying to stave off the inevitable.

“Ohhh,” Rey moaned, a sound that ricocheted through him. “Ohhh mmmmmy god, _William,”_ she panted. His knuckles turned white as he fisted his sheets; he was afraid to do more than breathe. Then, she started to move, and the feeling of her warmth gliding all around him was enough to push him right up to the edge. He reached up, palming her breasts, and she leaned into him, shuddering as he began to rub against new and different spots in her that made her see sparks. She grabbed one of his hands, skimming it down her body to where they were joined, and she pressed his enormous thumb against the little pearl of flesh there. He tentatively touched, and she moaned, trailing her short nails up his chest, which in turn made him shudder. William applied himself with vigor, and he felt her legs twitch, closing tighter around his hips and squeezing him impossibly tight as she stuttered in her pace.

“I…” he choked, his hands moving to her hips to pull her down onto him as he bucked into her. He was helpless to stop himself, driven over the edge, but he wasn’t alone.

“Ahhh!” Rey wailed, spasming all over him, her back arched, her beautiful breasts limned in the soft light. They both panted, unable to speak as their peak retreated, and she slid off of him, boneless, and collapsed beside him. After feeling the flow of the cold air for a moment, he turned toward her, propping himself up on one elbow. She was looking up at him, smiling beatifically, her golden skin flushed and glowing, and he reached over to stroke her cheek. She leaned into his touch, then turned to face him, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a slow, warming kiss, one full of affection. When his hand came up to stroke down her side, and pull her in to him, she was overcome with a swirl of feelings she couldn’t name. When was the last time she’d felt so warm, so safe and cared for? Had she ever?

“Rey?” Alarm licked at the edges of William’s voice, and he reached up with his other thumb to catch the tear running down her cheek. “Are you alright? Did I—”

He was cut off as she tightened her embrace, burrowing into his chest, and her happy sigh was a balm to his soul. In all the hubbub of the holidays that were right around the corner, in the bumps and reversals that his life as a divorced father entailed, this was an island of bliss, where nothing else mattered or could touch him. He stroked her hair and the soft, smooth skin of her back, and kissed her forehead. He wasn’t going to ask how he’d lucked into having someone patient and persistent enough to chase him until he caught her. He wasn’t even going to ask what lay ahead. For now, she was here, sated on his bed and in his arms, something he never imagined he’d feel after the hell he’d been through. For now, that was more than enough.


End file.
